


Be Careful What You Wish For

by Anonymous



Series: Smol Dragon!Cas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas get hugs, Castiel in the Bunker, Cute Castiel, Dragon Castiel, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Manhandling, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Transformed Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 04:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16737301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The witch they just saved is good, but not a good witch.  So when she tries to reward Sam by giving him the pet he longs for, she turns Cas into a small dragon by mistake.While they try to figure out how to change him back, they need to make some adjustments.





	Be Careful What You Wish For

“This is not my fault,” Sam insisted. “It _isn’t_.”

Dean ignored him. He had bigger problems than Sam’s fit of hysterics. His arms were folded on the table, head pillowed on them, as he watched Castiel.

Castiel sat there calmly, watching him back, like this was really no big deal.

“Cas,” Sam pleaded. “This really isn’t my fault.”

Dean finally looked back at his brother. “Not like he can answer you, dude.”

But maybe he had that wrong. He cursed and ducked as Cas flew straight over his head and straight at Sam, prompting the taller hunter to catch him in his arms.

Cas immediately burrowed down, and wrapped his tail around one of Sam’s forearms, then proceeded to nuzzle at Sam’s shirt.

Dean stood up and stared at them. “Guess Cas the tiny dragon agrees,” he said.

{]{]

Near as they could figure, the witch they’d saved was not a very good witch. But she was grateful to them, to Sam in particular, and her heart was in the right place.

It was a shame her head was a little slow to catch up, or she might have realised the spell she cast to reward Sam for his actions would have such a negative outcome.

And it was even more of a shame that she didn’t know how to undo what she’d cast, or even if it could be.

So that left Cas as a dragon, maybe two foot from tip to tail, blue in colour with the cutest (not that Dean would even admit it aloud even under pain of death or listening to Sam singing in the shower) little pair of wings.

They were both pretty sure he was still _Cas_ since he snapped at Dean when Dean tried to shove him in a box they’d borrowed from the witch, and instead settled himself in between them in the car’s front seat (with an almost smug impression on his dragony little face).

So that was a plus.

Now they just needed to find out how to turn him back.

{}{}

“I’m getting you a leash,” Dean warned.

He glared up at Cas, who was perched on the tallest of the stacks, inches out of Dean’s reach, and calmly using his surprisingly dexterous paws to flick the pages of a book he was reading on the reversal of curses.

Dean got that he wanted to help (while they were all fretting over his transformation, he supposed Cas was most of all), but Cas could do it on the table, or even the floor.

Not calmly resting someplace that was eight foot off the ground.

And yes, Cas had wings again, working wings, but…

Cas had wings again.

Dean fell silent and stared up at the transformed angel. No wonder since the change Cas had been flying everywhere. He wasn’t being difficult, or obstinate, or reckless. He wasn’t trying to piss them off.

He was enjoying being able to fly again, because as soon as they undid the witch’s spell, he’d go back to being an angel without wings.

Dean grabbed a couple of cushions from the couch in the den and laid them at the foot of the shelves, just in case, and then he left Cas to it.

{}{}

Hunts were...challenging.

Cas refused to be left behind in the bunker. 

No matter if Dean and Sam begged, or got firm, or tried bribery or reason, or whether Dean finally lost his temper, Cas refused to budge.

If they were going, he was going, and that meant hiding him in the car someplace so other drivers or passengers didn’t see him (Sam had ended up taking off his coat and covering Cas with it bar his little nose which most people were not observant enough to notice).

When they were interviewing witnesses, Cas had to settle for staying like that, but his small tail thumped loudly against the seat when they came back.

Smuggling him into motel rooms, inevitably meant he got tucked inside Dean’s jacket, or once inside their duffel.

Which Dean was never doing again, because Cas somehow got himself tangled up in one of Dean’s shirts, and it was a panting, panicked little dragon that they finally rescued when they made it into the room.

But when it came to confronting whatever they were after, Dean had to admit Cas was just as much of a badass (if a lot smaller) than when he was not a dragon.

There was just more burning shitty demons and monsters than there was smiting and stabbing, but a done deal was a done deal, and Dean certainly wasn’t complaining.

All the same, there was relief when they got Cas back home. Dean just felt like Cas was safer behind the Bunker’s walls and thick steel door.

{}{}

Sam heard it first. They were moving one of the old bookcases out of the downstairs archive so they could put it in the library proper. Their lore collection was on the increase, and nobody wanted to have to traipse down to the chilly lower level rooms every time they had a hunt and had to work out what they were dealing with.

He dropped his side sharply, prompting a curse from his brother.

“What was that?”

Dean rubbed the sweat from his forehead and then reached over to wipe his hand on Sam’s shirt. “What was what?”

Sam didn’t even rise to what Dean had done. He was around the bookcase, and passing him, a scowl on his face. “That.”

Now Dean heard it too. It was a plaintive cry, not human, and loud and piercing enough to echo downstairs to them.

“Cas!”

They raced along the corridor, and upstairs, following the noise, almost barrelling over a couple of the refugees who’d also come out of their rooms to see what was going on.

When they reached the library, Dean was glad he wasn’t armed.

As near as they could figure, later, Cas had been on top of one of the stacks, minding his own dragony little business, and Gruber, one of the refugees who’d been something of a scientist back in the AU, had finally been unable to restrain his curiosity.

He’d been sniffing around Cas since they brought him home, so they should have known he’d try something, but Cas was still _Cas_ and Dean had figured…

He’d figured being home meant the same as being safe, even though life had shown them it could mean anything but.

Gruber had Cas pinned to the table.

He had one hand over the back of his neck, and Cas was squirming, trying desperately to get out of the man’s hold.

It didn’t help. Gruber had used packing tape to secure Cas’s tail to the table top; his wings were already pinned down in the same way, and he was trying to fasten another thick strip around Cas’s jaws.

Sam got in there first, shoving Gruber back a good few feet, and Dean followed up, punching him to the ground.

He stood over the bastard, grabbing a fistful of his collar when he tried to get to his knees.

“What are you idiots doing?”

Dean shook him. “What are we doing? What the hell are you doing?”

He glanced over his shoulder. Sam was comforting Cas with low, gentle words, and carefully peeling the packing tape away from him.

He heard Cas whimper as it tugged on his wings, his skin, and he realised Gruber still had the strip of tape he’d been going to wrap around Cas’s mouth.

“You son of a bitch.” Who knew if Cas would even have been able to breathe like that. As it was, he was scared and hurt, and fuck it - this guy was five seven against Cas’s current size which was a little larger than a puppy.

“Creatures like that must be studied,’ Gruber insisted. “He wouldn’t let me near him when he was an angel, now you won’t that he’s a dragon! A dragon! Do you have any idea-”

Dean hauled Gruber to his feet and pressed his forearm in on the man’s throat, pinning him to the wall.

Gruber struggled. He clawed and he pushed, and he made thin, whistling noises as the little air Dean allowed him made it through his tubes.

“How do you like it?” Dean said. “Not fun, right? Being helpless? While somebody hurts you? Scares you? Well?”

Gruber managed to shake his head. He was starting to turn purple.

“Dean,” Sam warned.

Dean let him go.

Gruber collapsed back onto his knees, wheezing, rubbing at his neck, tugging back the collar of his shirt.

“You,” Dean told him, “will leave Cas alone. Like he is now, or when he’s an angel. Just stay away from him, because if you touch him again, if you bug him in any way, I will shoot you.”

The commotion had drawn a lot of the refugees into the room (more, Dean suspected, than when Gruber had clambered up and grabbed Cas from the stacks before pinning him to the table). He glared at all of them, and it looked like they also got the message he’d given to Gruber.

Sam had Cas in his arms. The small dragon was still shaking, and had burrowed down into Sam’s hold.

Dean stroked his head and back gently. “Hey, it’s okay, we’re here. Dammit, Cas, I’m sorry. You should just have toasted him.”

Cas actually rolled his eyes, and then reached out one scaly paw to Dean. Dean grinned and opened his arms; Sam carefully transferred the bundle of wings and tail to Dean, who hugged Cas to him.

“Come on,” he said. “We are having a movie marathon in the den.”

Sam nodded, and looked over at the refugees. “There’s a book case in the corridor downstairs. Somebody bring it up here.”

They dispersed rapidly, leaving the brothers alone with the panting Gruber.

Sam glared down at him. “You better know he meant that,” he said. “You don’t _touch_ Cas again.”

Then he followed as Dean carried Cas down to the den, pausing only to grab the angel’s favourite blanket from his room.


End file.
